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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27052048">Remember</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lathalea/pseuds/lathalea'>lathalea</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dwarf Tales [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works &amp; Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bittersweet, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Durin's Day 2020, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Gen, Humor, No Incest, Now you know why Fili hates apples</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:13:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,672</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27052048</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lathalea/pseuds/lathalea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Remember, Brother, that time when you said ‘hi’ to me for the first time? You were so restless back then. I was but a pebble myself, but I remember that evening as if it happened yesterday.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dís &amp; Fíli &amp; Kíli (Tolkien), Fíli &amp; Kíli &amp; Thorin Oakenshield, Fíli &amp; Kíli (Tolkien)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dwarf Tales [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838215</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>GatheringFiki - Durin's Day 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Remember</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Durin's Day 2020!</p><p>I wrote this story for the Gathering FiKi event - Durin's Day 2020.</p><p>It’s my gift for the talented <b>@mewpet</b> (tumblr) because we both adore the cute brotherly fluff :)</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://mewpet.tumblr.com/post/632278221489078272/my-half-of-the-durins-day-gift-exchange-art-to">Do you want to see the amazing fan art by <b>mewpet</b> that goes with this fic? See it here!</a></p><p> </p><p>Hope you'll enjoy it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Remember, Brother, that time when you said ‘hi’ to me for the first time? You were so restless back then. I was but a pebble myself, but I remember that evening as if it happened yesterday. </p><p> </p><p>Mother is sitting by the fireplace, surrounded by heaps of pillows, and I press my ear against her protruding belly. It is one of our quiet, cozy evenings. Father and Uncle are away on some grown-up business again, so there are just the two of us at home, enjoying each other’s company.</p><p>“Mother! He kicked me!” I protest when something rapidly pushes against my cheek, making me move away.</p><p>“<em> He </em>?” Mother chuckles, placing her hand on her belly. “And what if it is your sister?”</p><p>“It isn’t! A girl would punch me!” I decide, recalling how that annoying copper-haired girl, Geira, treated me just a day before. My jaw still feels a bit tender. Perhaps I shouldn’t have taken her toy axe after all…</p><p>“Very well, then. A brother,” Mother smiles. “Your brother is simply saying ‘Hi!’,” she explains, her steel blue eyes brimming with warmth.</p><p>“Why can’t he come out already? I’m bored!” I complain.</p><p>“He will, my little mountain lion, be patient,” she ruffles my hair in an affectionate gesture. She smells of flowers and freshly baked bread. “It won’t be long now, I promise.”</p><p>“But I want to meet him now!” I huff loudly and stomp my foot. Mother chuckles again and I feel a bit silly, not quite sure why, though. Gently, I place my little hands on Mother’s belly, ripe as a watermelon ready to burst, and whisper our first shared secret to you, “Hello, Brother, come quickly to me so we can play together and help Mother when Father and Uncle are away! And… If you come soon, I will show you my collection of stones!”</p><p>Triumphantly, I grin at Mother who tenderly smiles back at me and places a warm kiss on my forehead. My beautiful stones of all shapes and sizes, how proud I am of them.<br/>
“That should convince him!” I think.</p><p>And it does. You arrive in the world screaming and wailing less than two weeks later. There are plenty of women in our house, but Father still hasn’t returned. I sit at the window, the only place at home where I don’t disturb the grownups. I take a sip of the warm milk Auntie Bestla gave me before she returned to our Parents' bedchamber. Mother is loud and from time to time I can hear her shouting very, very bad words that I’m not allowed to listen to nor repeat. Auntie Bestla says that it is normal and that Mother is doing well. I stare into the darkness, the evening wind blowing through the trees. </p><p>Only then do I hear the hoofbeats outside and see Uncle Thorin’s familiar figure. He dismounts his pony. And Father is there too! Finally! I can clearly see Uncle taking both ponies to the stable while Father turns his steps towards home. I jump up and down in excitement and rush towards the entrance door. Soon, I’m enveloped in Father's embrace. He smells of woodsmoke, leather, and road dust. He winks at me and presses his forehead against mine. A warrior’s greeting! And then his blond braids intertwine with my hair. Mother often says that I should be very proud that I inherited his hair color because it brings luck. And when she does, Father usually smiles, takes Mother into his arms, and tells me that he found Mother thanks to his luck. And then she calls him “her golden warrior”, and then they kiss. Yuck!</p><p>Father sets me down, and I tell him everything that has happened since he was gone, that my brother is coming, that we have two new chickens, and that I lost a tooth. He asks me if I have been a good boy, and of course, I say I have, and then he asks if I did my duty and helped Mother while he was gone, and I nod with pride, and his dark brown eyes smile at me, and then he gives me a pouch filled with my favorite hard candy. I start munching on it right away! </p><p>When he removes his cloak, I hear your first cries (Mahal, I still remember how loud you were!) and gasp in excitement. Father rushes to the bedroom door and gives it a small knock. We, men, are to wait outside until the midwife invites us in, he says. This is the Dwarven Tradition, he says. Stupid tradition, I think. I want to see my brother now! I’m so angry, I say out loud one of the very, very bad words Mother shouted before. Father’s brow furrows and he’s about to scold me when the bedroom door cracks open and Auntie Saga is there, beaming, her lush chestnut beard braided in two beautifully plaited sidebraids.</p><p>“Fili, my boy, come to say hello to your… Vili, you’re back!” she opens the door and ushers us in. Mother looks very tired, but very happy at the same time. </p><p>“Dis, my dove,” Father kisses her forehead and they murmur grownup things to each other while I curiously look at the bundle in Mother’s arms.</p><p>“Do you want to see your little brother, Fili?” she asks.</p><p>I’m so eager to meet you that I nod enthusiastically.</p><p>Soon, I’m on the bed, together with Mother and Father, both happy and confused at the same time. Is this tiny bundle really my brother? Your impossibly big blue eyes are open wide (I wonder if they will stay like this or will they change color at some point?) and there are a few unruly tufts of dark hair on top of your head. You blink, and I instantly know you just have said ‘hi’ to your big brother. To me.</p><p>“Hello, Kili,” I touch your tiny hand with mine and your fingers immediately wrap around my index finger. Our eyes meet and at that moment I already know that we are going to have so much fun together!</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Many, many new things. Darkness. Flickering light. My heart beats fast.  So fast. It’s happened. I’m here. Softness. Textures. Breathe in. Breathe out. Everything seems so blurry, but I’m so curious! And there is that smell. The smell of flowers and freshly baked bread. Mother. She’s so warm. So cozy. So safe. Touch. I like touch. More sounds surround me. Mother is humming a lullaby. Father is there, too, he’s so happy, he even sheds a tear! He speaks something, but then I notice you, peering at me, your bright blue eyes sparkling with joy. You look much too serious for your age and I decide I’ll have to do something about it, and keep doing it often. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Remember, Brother, that time when Father hadn’t returned home? Remember, what I promised you on that day? You were still a babe…</p><p> </p><p>The autumn rain is pattering on the window panes when Uncle Thorin enters our home. He should have returned over a month ago, together with Father. Mother runs to the door. Uncle is soaking wet, and he is still wearing his armor. It’s dented. And then I notice a large, dark stain on his trousers. Why is he limping? Why is his face so pale, so strange?</p><p>“Uncle! You came back! Do you know that Kili tried to eat Mother’s sketchbook? And the neighbor’s goat got lost and I helped find it! And Mother baked a berry pie! And... Where is Father?” I cling to his wet clothes and feel his large hand on my head. He smells of wet horse, tobacco and… something weird I can’t quite place.</p><p>“You have grown, Fili,” he speaks, but there is no joy in his voice. He sounds so hollow and I don’t understand why.</p><p>Mother’s eyes rest knowingly on Uncle. They widen. He shakes his head slightly and looks down. Her lips tremble. A sob escapes her mouth. </p><p>“Mahal…” she whispers, covering her mouth with her hand.</p><p>“He is in the Halls of Waiting now. He said that he would await the day when he met you there,” Uncle speaks, embracing her.</p><p>I don’t understand why Mother is sobbing, whispering Father’s name. I don’t know why Uncle tells her all those strange things.</p><p>But then they tell me.</p><p>Wiping my tears away, I’m standing over your cradle. You reach out your hand to mine, flashing a wide, toothless smile, your eyes already as dark as Father’s. </p><p>I recall his last words to me when we said our farewells, “Keep an eye on your little brother. Protect him from harm, my son.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, Kili. I will protect you,” I explain and your smile widens even more. I want to keep you smiling so innocently for as long as I can.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I remember only a few vague sensations from that day, detached from each other, withering away as a bonfire smoke on a wind. A very old tune played by a musical box. A low murmur. A gasp. Some steps. Mother sobbing. And then your forehead touching mine. And your whisper. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We’ll go through this together. We’re warriors. Just like Father.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I don’t understand much at that point, but your words sound very solemn. I want to show you that I’m there for you and you shouldn’t fret, so I do the best I can at that moment and press my tiny hand against your nose (Mahal, you’ve always had a nose like a potato!). You frown, so I  realize that it doesn’t work. Time for Plan B. I grab one of your temple braids and shove its tip into my mouth, munching on it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’re disgusting!” you take your braid away from me and scowl at the mess I made. You’re always so touchy about your hair. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And then I burp and start giggling. Of course, you can’t help yourself and a chuckle escapes you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mission accomplished. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Remember, Brother, that time when we climbed that apple tree in Old Cotter’s orchard? Oh, what fun we had!</p><p> </p><p>The gnarly branches are not easy to climb on, but we will make it. It’s a dare, after all, Gimli’s idea, in fact. And I already know one thing for certain: the Dwarves of the line of Durin never step back from a challenge! That’s what Uncle Thorin says… although deep inside I’m not sure if he would approve of this particular dare. Old Cotter is a grumpy Man, not overly fond of Dwarves. But surely, he won’t even notice if a few of his apples are gone. Or a bushel.</p><p>“Fili, give me a leg up!” you complain, your arm reaching towards a thick branch above us, full of apples. Your tunic is already bursting at the seams with the ones we’ve already gathered.</p><p>“You almost got it! Stretch a bit more, Shorty!” I reply, busy picking my own share of apples. They smell so good! My stomach growls.</p><p>“I’m not a shorty! I’m almost as tall as you!” you protest, furrowing your brows in that funny way, trying to mimic one of Uncle’s glares.</p><p>I burst out in laughter, “Only if you stand on a stool!”</p><p>You move towards me and the branch we’re sitting on sways underneath us.</p><p>“I’ve grown since last week! A lot!” you exclaim.</p><p>“No, you haven’t,” I stand by my opinion. I’m almost sure that you are quite a few inches shorter than me! At least you were lat time Mother measured us…</p><p>“Yes, I have! Mother told me yesterday! I’m catching up with you!”</p><p>“No, and you’ll never outgrow me!” I declare firmly. I’m the older one after all!</p><p>“I already have!” you squirm on the branch.</p><p>“No, you haven't!” I’m grabbing a branch above us, trying to stretch and show you who’s the taller one once and for all. </p><p>“But I have!” you mimic my movements and now we’re both standing on the branch, face to face.</p><p>“No, you have not!” I stomp.</p><p>“I have!” you swing.</p><p>“No---”</p><p>And then two things happen at once. The branch gives way beneath us with a loud crack and we’re hanging from the flimsy branch above, flailing our legs in the air. And the second one? A dog starts yapping. No, make it two dogs. Old Cotter keeps two large guarding dogs, you see. I’m not sure why he does that, really. It’s not like we’re coming here that often. Besides, it’s just a few little apples, right? Anyway, the point is that his dogs are always as angry as he is, or perhaps even more. And they have teeth. Huge teeth. I meet your gaze, your face seems paler and your eyes widen.</p><p>“Crap!” you say. “Old Cotter’s pups! We can outrun them, right, Fili?”</p><p>“Of course! Ready?” I give you a reassuring smile. You nod in return “Now, Kili!”</p><p>We both let go of the branch and fall to the ground with a thump, like two ripe apples.</p><p>“Ouch! I think I landed on my… apples,” you scrunch your face. I’m trying not to think how much the part of my body I landed on will hurt tomorrow.</p><p>“Get’em, my beauties!” a screeching shout comes from the other side of the orchard. That’s where Old Cotter’s house is. The barking becomes louder, more intense.</p><p>“Run, Kili!” I urge you, and off you go. In a blink of an eye, I’m on my feet as well, frantically rummaging through my bag. The barking intensifies and I see two dark shadows rushing towards me among the apple trees. I’m not escaping. I’m waiting. They are closer and closer. I’m standing my ground. I can see their eyes now. Their white teeth. They are snarling at me now. That is when I throw the contents of my bag at them and quickly take to my legs, running as fast as I have never run before.</p><p>“Are they gone, Fili? Are they still following us?” you ask, gasping, when I finally catch up with you. We’re hiding behind a fallen tree in a nearby grove.</p><p>“No, we’re good, Kili. They really liked those steaks we found in the kitchen,” I reply and the moment I see the merry sparks in your eyes, I chuckle. </p><p>“Poor Old Cotter! I wish I could have seen his face!” you burst with laughter.</p><p>“You should have seen the look in his dogs’ eyes! I bet no one has thrown a proper steak at them in their entire lives!”</p><p>“Yeah, Old Cotter probably feeds them only with apples!”</p><p>We’re rolling on the ground, laughing our heads off. The grass is so soft, the sun pleasantly warms our cheeks and the ever-present smell of apples fills the air. </p><p>All of a sudden, a large, menacing shadow looms over us.</p><p>“So this is what happened with those steaks we were supposed to have for supper,” the shadow speaks in a low, rumbly voice. A very familiar voice. Darn.</p><p>“H-hello, Uncle…” we mumble in unison, knowing that we are in deep, deep trouble. </p><p>Stupid Gimli and his dare.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I still remember that those were the best apples I’ve ever tasted. So what if they weren’t quite ripe yet? And no, this certainly wasn’t the cause for our upset stomachs afterwards! It’s not as if we were getting supper, anyway. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Remember, Brother, that time when we got lost in a blizzard on our way back from an unlucky hunting trip?</p><p> </p><p>“We should have turned right by that triple rock,” you shout through the storm.</p><p>“We did, Kili!” I reply as the freezing cold snow finds its way into my mouth. When it melts on my tongue, it tastes like the butter buns Mother bakes every morning. We hadn’t eaten for over a day. The game has been scarce.</p><p>“No, we turned left, Fili, I’m sure!” your words are carried on the wind along with the snow.</p><p>“You’re talking nonsense! It was right, we always turn right there!” I approach you and see your narrowed eyes. The rest of your face is hidden under a hood, protected from the cold by a knitted scarf. Geira made them for us last year. Yours is dark green while mine - dark red, like my vambraces. Of course, once I got the scarf along with a new dagger, you wouldn’t stop teasing me with silly songs informing me that “Roses are red” and hinting at the activities I should perform with her (“Fili and Geira sitting in a tree…”). Younger brothers are such a menace. I’m really fond of my new dagger, though. And I’m fond of...</p><p>“Fili! I’m talking to you!” you interrupt my thoughts. “Why aren’t we at Frigg’s Pass yet?” you demand.</p><p>That’s a valid point. I take a look around, but the visibility is getting worse by the minute. There is no pass in sight, of course, and the blizzard is growing more and more intense.</p><p>“Let’s find shelter,” I decide.</p><p>“We’re lost, aren’t we? I forgot you’re just like Uncle Thorin, you clot!” you huff, clearly displeased.</p><p>“We’re not lost,” I grunt, “We just need to find someplace to wait out this bloody storm!”</p><p>I pass you by and walk ahead. I know my way in the wilderness around Ered Luin much better than Uncle… I think.</p><p> </p><p>We set up camp by a rock wall that shelters us from the blizzard. The night comes. Wrapped in our furs, we wait for the dawn in silence. The storm has almost passed, there is just a flurry of snowflakes in the air. None of us feels like talking. I’m trying not to notice the cold. Instead, I’m thinking about roasted lamb with cranberries. Oh, and mashed potatoes with butter. Lots of them. And for dessert, I…</p><p>“Did you hear that, Fi?” you prod me.</p><p>“What?” I open my eyes. No, it’s not what you think, I wasn’t sleeping. Really, I wasn’t!</p><p>“That growl… There it is again!” you insist in a low whisper. At that point, I hear it too. Something shuffles through the snow in the pale predawn darkness. The noises are approaching us.</p><p>“Get your axe ready,” I signal in Iglishmêk. You do. And so do I.</p><p>We rise on our feet at the same time when the first warg attacks. Wargs! Here? But there is no time for such thoughts. This is the moment my swords were waiting for all this time. They slash through the air, finding the foe with every swing of the blades. From what I can see in the corner of my eye, you’re doing quite well with your axe too. Then, I realize that the warg pack tries to surround us, but we know how to act. Standing back to back, just like we were taught, we fight them off, one by one, slowly, but methodically. Their skinny bodies fall on the ground, their unmoving contours clearly visible in the first light of the day. The last one yelps and tries to escape, but I take out my new dagger from its sheath in one swift move and throw it at him in a blink of an eye. Almost instantly, the beast falls with a groan.</p><p>“Great aim, brother,” you grin, resting against a rock. </p><p>When I return to you after retrieving my dagger, you sit on the snow-covered ground. A puddle of blood surrounds you.</p><p>“Ki, you’re hurt!”</p><p>“It’s nothing, brother,” you smile faintly. I rush to you and find a nasty bite wound on your right thigh. Bloody wargs.</p><p>“That’s quite a big nothing, if you ask me!” not listening to your protests, I’m taking care of your wound the best I can in these conditions, but you’re still losing blood. It doesn’t look good. I need to take you home as soon as possible.</p><p>“You know what, Fi?” you speak slowly. “I think we turned right by that triple rock after all. I found the Frigg’s Pass…”</p><p>“Hmmm? Where is it?” I finish dressing your wound.</p><p>“Here… we’re in it,” you look at me as if you’ve just managed another mischief. </p><p>I look around and finally recognize the rocks around us, the trail leading down to Ered Luin, and the little frozen creek nearby. Home is just a half a day away. On foot. I steal a glance at your wound.</p><p>“Fi?”</p><p>“Hmmm?”</p><p>“I don’t fancy walking right now. I think I’ll take a nap. Go home and get some help. I’m not going anywhere,” you force a wink at me.</p><p>“You’re as stupid as a goat’s ass if you think that I’m leaving you alone here, Shorty!” I protest vehemently. </p><p>“You’re shorter than me and you know it, Potato Nose!” you point out with a slight grin.</p><p>“It’s only two inches! It doesn’t count because you’re younger!”<br/>
“You know it still does!” </p><p>“No, it doesn’t!” I assert firmly. “Besides, you have less muscle on you!”</p><p>Our customary bickering is interrupted by our growling bellies.</p><p>“What would you say about a dozen fried eggs and a pound of bacon on the side?” I ask.</p><p>“Alright, alright. You convinced me. Let’s go,” you nod weakly and I pat you on your shoulder. You’re a bit paler than before. I know we have to make it before dusk.</p><p> </p><p>You rest your weight on me and then we start walking. Slowly. Step by step. It seems like forever. </p><p>And then your good leg gives way. You fall on the ground.</p><p>“How about I just sit there?” you propose. I see the shadows under your eyes.</p><p>“No way, you lazy bum. We’re going. Get on my back,” I try to keep a light-hearted tone of voice, but I know you see straight through it.</p><p> “Why are you so eager to get back all of a sudden?” you attempt to joke with a small smile at the corner of your lips. “Ah, I know! I bet you can’t wait to take Geira to the Yule dance!”</p><p>“Get on my back or I’ll carry you in my arms as I used to when you were a just pebble”, I growl. What do you know about girls, anyway? Knowing you, if you were ever to meet a maiden you liked, you would probably bore her to tears with that mawkish story about a huge fire moon we’d seen once in Dunland while escorting some merchants, together with Uncle Thorin. I’m almost falling asleep now, just thinking about it.</p><p>Finally, you grunt something about your warrior’s pride being wounded, but you do as I say for the first time in your life. A miracle. Praise Mahal!</p><p> </p><p>We move ahead even slower than before, but at least I don’t feel the biting cold.</p><p>“Mother will not be thrilled when she sees us...” you speak in a slightly dazed voice. I’m plowing ahead, worried that your wound is infected and you’re getting a fever.</p><p>“Why would she?” I try not to groan under your weight. Either you’re getting heavier or I’m getting weaker. Naaah. Not me. I’m sure you’re getting heavier.</p><p>“She’s been looking forward to some venison and we… we’re coming back empty-handed,” you explain.</p><p>“What are you talking about, Ki? I have my game right here,” I poke you so that you know whom I mean. “A game leg, to be exact, but beggars can’t be choosers.”</p><p>You snort faintly in amusement.</p><p>“Just make sure you don’t faint before coming home, Shorty,” I warn him. “I don’t feel like carrying you all the way to your bed as if you were a dwarfling again.”</p><p>“No worries, Potato Nose. I’ll be fine,” you whisper. “We’ll be fine.”</p><p>Soon, we reach home.</p><p>And yes, we are fine.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em> I have to say that you were right bringing those stupid fancy-pants swords of yours on our hunting trip, but I’ll never admit it to anyone. And certainly not to you. A pack of stray wargs so close to Ered Luin. Who would have thought... </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em> And then, there comes the day when we’re to accompany Uncle all the way to Erebor, to reclaim the home of our ancestors. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “A great warrior has to be always prepared for battle,” you say pompously as we are preparing for the road. I roll my eyes. You grin at me, sheathing those fancy swords on your back, and leave our house, doing that stupid springy walk of yours. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maybe you’re not a total clot, but you’re a terrible show-off anyway. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Are you coming, Ki?” I hear your voice from the outside. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Of course I am. I belong with you, after all, brother. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>I place my hand on a polished piece of stone. It’s cold. </p><p>It’s the last week of November again. I feel its chill in my bones. The old wounds healed well enough, but I still feel them at this time of the year. It’s snowing today, my brother, just like it snowed over 150 years ago, when we rushed into that fateful battle, arm in arm, just to be separated forever by an Orc blade.</p><p> </p><p>Remember, Brother…?</p><p> </p><p>I place my hand on a polished piece of stone. It’s cold. Freezing cold. </p><p>They came at us, we were outnumbered. Uncle Thorin was already wounded. Our Uncle. The closest thing we had to a father. The King Under the Mountain. Our King. The one we swore our oath to. And so we stayed by his side, an ice-bound river beneath our feet. Stronger together. The Pale Orc gathered his troops and led a frontal attack while Bolg’s Orcs came at us from behind. The battle raged on, taking lives on both sides of the conflict. The ice under our feet was singing in terror. In warning. But we fought on. Fiercely. Desperately. Until an Orc carrying a battle scythe in his paws tore through our defenses, aiming at me. You pushed me away, but the bloodthirsty blade reached you instead. </p><p>And the snow kept falling from the sky, covering both the bloodstains and the unmoving bodies with a merciful white blanket.</p><p> </p><p>I was the one supposed to protect you. Just like Father said all those years ago.</p><p> </p><p>Remember, Brother…?</p><p> </p><p>I place my hand on a polished piece of stone. It’s cold. Freezing cold. As cold as an ice-bound river. </p><p>The unseeing eyes of your marble likeness sculpted by the best artists of Erebor, white as snow, look into nothingness. There is no smile on your face. Instead, you look rather like a fierce, solemn warrior clad in formidable battle armor, an eternal frown on your face. You don’t resemble yourself at all. The constantly laughing Dwarf with a head full of mischief.</p><p>You became the hero of our people. The one who saved the life of their future king. Me, your older brother. You were the one who gave your own life in return.</p><p>“A life for a life… A fair trade,” you whispered through your pale lips at the very end. “Go on, marry your Geira, be happy, Potato Nose,” you said, your voice alarmingly hoarse. “You will make a great king…”</p><p> </p><p>Remember, Brother…?</p><p> </p><p>We named our firstborn Kili. I know that he will become a worthy King Under the Mountain one day. Soon. I’m not young anymore. Before long, I will join you in the Halls of Waiting, leaving a worthy successor behind. King Kili. His mind is sharp and he fills my heart with pride every day. He laughs just like you. Would you believe if I told you that when he was but a dwarfling, he brought some apples home, offering them proudly to me, like a spoil of war? With mischief glinting in his eyes, he let me in on a secret. Apparently, his boon came from the orchards of Dale. What’s more, he and his friends may have forgotten to ask their owners for permission. What a rascal. Luckily, there were no dogs involved, but the apples weren’t ripe at all, of course.</p><p> </p><p>Remember those days, Brother…? </p><p> </p><p>And a whiff of wind lost in the corridors of the Lonely Mountain whispers back.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I remember, Brother… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And I’m waiting. </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you liked this story, comments and kudos are more than welcome! Thank you :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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